“‘It arose at a gentlemen’s dinner, given by one of the Bonapartes. The talk turned on women, and drifted into the comparative merits of women of different European nationalities. The Duc de Montmeri, who had taken too much wine, made some injurious and sneering remarks on Italian women. The prince warmly took up the defense of his fair compatriots. High words ensued. The quarrel ended in the challenge of Saviola by Montmeri. They met the next morning in a secluded spot in the Rouveret. Montmeri was a professional duelist and a dead shot. Saviola fell at the first fire. It was a murder—no less. When his second went to raise his head the dying man only breathed forth three words—“My poor wife”—and died. Little did I think when I read these words that the poor wife in question was my own daughter.’ “‘Oh, Luigi! Poor Luigi! And to think that I should have listened to such cruel slanders of you and cherished such bitter thoughts of you!’ I exclaimed, in sudden remorse at the remembrance of the ready credence I had given to the story of his second marriage told me by Anglesea. “‘And you really knew nothing of this fatal duel until I told you about it?’ again demanded my father. “‘Nothing, I assure you. But remember how secluded I have lived here, seeing no one but my infant boy, my nurse and my maid—except, indeed, my physician, who came daily for weeks, but who would not have been likely to speak to me of the duel, even if he had read of it, which he might not have done, you know.’ “‘Well, my love, you should now put on widow’s mourning for your deceased husband,’ said my father, looking gravely into my face.” CHAPTER XXXVI “TELL ME ALL” “‘I am not sure that I have the right to do so,’ I answered, dropping my head on my bosom. “‘You do not know whether you have any right to do so? What do you mean, Elfrida? Are we still at cross-purposes, my dear? Or what new enigma is this?’ he demanded, uneasily. “‘Father, I fear that a fatal mistake was made in the manner of our marriage. I fear that mistake may render it illegal. I will have no concealments from you. Therefore, I must tell you even this. Once I was led to believe that Saviola made no mistake, but purposely left the train with me, on the English side of the border, where our marriage without your consent would have been unlawful; but now since I have learned that the report of this French marriage was false, I now believe that the report of his wilful deception of me in regard to the place of our marriage was also false, and that he ignorantly made the fatal mistake.’ “‘My dear girl! My dear Elfrida! What do you mean? What fatal mistake do you mean?’ “‘I have already indicated it, my dear father. But I will tell you more distinctly,’ I said.